Off the Map: No One Cares About Your Blog

Bacon Apple Maple Donuts -- Dynamo Donut and Coffee, San Francisco, CA
Dynamo Donut and Coffee

As we stand on the sidewalk outside of Tartine Bakery, Vodka transcribing Ginger's "stellar" culinary feedback, she turns to find Ginger standing with her cell phone posed to her ear.

Two Days in San Francisco and We're Apparently Sick of Each Other's Company

"Hi, I was calling to see if you have maple bacon donuts today?" Ginger chirps by way of answer.

"Oh, this should be good...," Vodka whispers, flashbacks of Ginger's epic "Do you have cinnamon buns?" call flashing through her head.

"Weekdays?" Ginger asks the phone, panic spreading across her face, being that today is Saturday.  "Oh, so today, too?"

By this point, Vodka is laughing audibly at whatever is going on in this conversation.

"Yes, we'll take one," Ginger wraps up the call.  "Oh, well, okay thanks."  She hangs up the phone.  "Well, THAT was awkward."

"Were they foreign?!" Vodka asks, trying to discern what kind of accent could have possibly caused Ginger to have so much trouble comprehending what they were saying.

"No," Ginger admits.  "She must have said that they have the maple bacon donuts every day, but I heard 'weekdays.'  So she repeated that it was every day, and like a dolt, I said, 'So today, too?'  This woman is totally going to know it's me when we arrive."

It's Never Good to Establish a Reputation for Yourself BEFORE You Arrive at the Restaurant

We trudge up a particularly steep hill, and thus lapse into silence, but Ginger continues her phone tale of woe when we reach the top.  "She also asked if I wanted her to hold the donuts for me.  So I said, 'Yes, just one.'  And she was like, 'Oh... well, we'll definitely have one.'  I can't really describe the level of awkwardness." 

She Essentially Just Asked Dunkin Donuts to Hold One Munchkin

Luckily for Ginger, when we reach Dynamo, after skedaddling through what can be described as an "interesting" section of the Mission District (ahem), there are at least 25 workers behind the counter, and a multitude of people ordering maple apple bacon donuts.

Saved in this round, Ginger.

Anonymity Is Always Our Friend

We order our donut from the counter outside -- just the one, despite the plethora of donuts to choose from.  

"If You Peruse Our Menu -- " "Yeah, We Don't Need It. We Called Ahead"

Chris Cosentino had spoken of this donut on the WITH BACON episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, and we are vaguely optimistic about it due to the whole salty/sweet component.  We carry our donut to the inside seating area and prepare to take a bite.

Only be distracted by what can only be described as the "self-proclaimed foodies" next to us.

They're Just Like Us! Only We Hate Them Instantly

This group is making a gigantic project out of photographing, and then tasting, their assortment of donuts, making references to their food blog all along the way.  The difference between these people, and us, is that they clearly think they are doing work on behalf of the James Beard Foundation and are taking themselves ENTIRELY too seriously.  

"I Detect the Faintest Hint of Smoke in the Back Ends of My Taste Buds..." "SHUT UP!"

As if for spite, we each take repeated munches of our donut without so much as a single phrase leaving our lips, just to prove that we don't have pretentious debates about the merits of a DONUT.

Just Eat It Already. You're Not Ruth Reichl

In truth, this donut is softer than we had imagined it would be -- somewhere between a cake texture and a lighter yeast.  The surface is glazed by a maple topping, with small sprinkles of bacon scattering the edges.  The donut essentially tastes like a piece of bacon dredged in maple syrup ("It tastes like breakfast"), and while we get almost no hint of the apple flavoring, it is quite good.  It is certainly better than the PBJ donut we were forced to consume at Doughnut Plant years ago, though we believe it could stand for just a tad more salt/bacon to even out the combination.

See? That Is How You Describe a Donut Without Pretending It's Foie Gras

When we leave Dynamo to head to our third, and not even final, dessert of the day, Ginger's hostility toward the "foodies" next door explodes.

We Should Have Slipped Them One of These Just to Hear Their Commentary

"Why do people take themselves so seriously?" she begins.  "No one cares about your blog!  At least we know no one cares about ours."

Most. Stellar. Greeting. Card. Ever.

Indeed, you can call us many things, but donut snobs?  That is one moniker that will never fit our description.

Dynamo Donut and Coffee's Bacon Apple Maple Donuts: 4 stars

Off the Map: This Coffee Is Not Worth the Nonsense

Kyoto Iced Coffee -- Blue Bottle Coffee, San Francisco, CA
Blue Bottle Coffee

The good news about our second day in San Francisco is that we don't, due to our inability to adjust off of east coast time, wake up at 5:00am.

We wake up at 4:30am.

Hopeless. We Are Hopeless

And being that we still have a solid 4 hours before we will be picked up by our wine country bus tour (and also being that sending us into wineries on empty stomachs is the surest way to get us banned from the state of California), we decide to kick off our morning with a cup of Blue Bottle Coffee.

We Need to Found a West Coast Restaurant Chain That Opens at 4:00am, Just to Serve People Like Us

Now, we have been heralded of the wonders of Blue Bottle Coffee by west coasters and San Francisco visitors in the past, but we have never been inspired enough to make our way to the Brooklyn location.  

In Truth, Not Much Gets Us to Brooklyn

Luckily, not only is this Blue Bottle shop two blocks from our hotel, but it is one of the few that also serves the Best Thing I Ever Ate BEST I EVER DRANK beverage, the kyoto iced coffee, as recommended by Chris Cosentino.

Um, Excuse Us, But Where's the Rest?

Despite our 7:30am arrival time, and the seemingly desolate location of this particular shop, there is a line out the door of Blue Bottle when we get there.  

Also, Either Someone Forgot Their Hat, Or San Francisco Has a Very Interesting Interpretation of "Art"

Because we have nothing better to do, we wait in said line without too much complaint, as Ginger manages to up both of our anxiety levels by delineating our hypothetical emergency preparedness plans: "I keep envisioning what we'll do if there's an earthquake while we're here.  It doesn't look good for us."

Grab the Cookies and Run, Just in Case

Eventually, we reach the cash register, and Ginger orders us a kyoto iced coffee, along with a skim latte and snickerdoodle cookie (Vodka) and a skim cafe au lait and ginger molasses cookie (obviously Ginger).  

Breakfast of Champions

At this point, we wait a SOLID TEN MINUTES for our coffees to be ready, as the two workers very calmly maneuver around the drip coffee and fancy-schmancy espresso machines.  The line out the door continues to grow, and no one seems remotely perturbed.

What IS this madness?

Somebody Get the Lead Out!

"This nonsense would never survive in Manhattan," Vodka mumbles as we settle down at a window seat with our plethora of beverages.  Indeed, even before tasting, we're not sure how all of this coffee could ever be worth all of this slow, waiting around business.  

Patience = Not Our Strongest Attribute

This place makes Starbucks look like the motor speedway of morning drinks, and with a $4.25 price tag on what would be considered a "tall" at Starbucks, it seems highly overpriced, even by overpriced-coffee standards.

In Other Words, This Place Is a Rip-Off of Time AND Money

We try the kyoto iced coffee first, which is pretty much a shot of coffee with a single iced cube.  

Though When We Hear "A Shot," We Expect Something Other Than Coffee, If You Know What We Mean

Is it good?  Sure.  Is it strong?  YES.  But is it GREAT?  No.  Not even a little.  

It Is ICED COFFEE -- Nothing More, Nothing Less

Our milk-based drinks are similarly underwhelming, as our favorite parts about them are the figures drawn in the foam.  

Which, For the Record, Never Disappear. "Good" to the Last Drop

Indeed, Vodka's latte has a solid inch of foam covering the top, which considering the size of the cup itself, seems to be way too much.  Ginger quips that her cafe au lait would be better with some whiskey in it, and we silently calculate if we have enough time to make our way uptown for some Irish coffee before our wine tour (sadly, we do not).

The Best Part of Waking Up Is NOT Foam Art, No Matter How Lovely

In contrast to, you know, what they're known for, Blue Bottle Coffee's cookies are fairly fantastic.  Soft and chewy, they have strong natural flavors and taste like comfort, leading us to believe that Blue Bottle should abandon the coffee all together and become a bakery.  

Now These -- THESE Are Impressive

The cookies are 100% more interesting than the drinks, which are downright tepid only five minutes after we've received them.

Ginger's Ginger Cookie

As we sip our drinks apathetically, we stare at the continually-growing line.  "What kinds of jobs do these people have that they can wait in this kind of line for coffee?" Vodka asks.  "Do they get here at 7:30 just to be at work by 9:00?"  

Ain't Nobody Got Time for That!

Indeed, while at most other coffee shops (namely, any Starbucks in Manhattan), there are long but MOVING lines, Blue Bottle's is fairly stagnant, which no one but us seems to find infuriating.

As Is the Case with Many Things In Life, We Suppose

Eventually, we manage to procure lids for our cups (which Blue Bottle keeps in a hidden corner, presumably for "environmental" purposes) and head off toward many hours of day-drinking.

Greetings Napa, We Await Our Wine Glasses

And tellingly, before we even reach our hotel, we toss the remainder of our coffees into the trash -- our precious, $4.25, endless line-worthy coffees.  Because for us, Blue Bottle, you are just not worth the nonsense.

Blue Bottle Coffee's Kyoto Iced Coffee: 3 stars

Off the Map: The Moral of the Story Is We Don't Like Green Papaya

Green Papaya Salad -- Out the Door, San Francisco, CA
Out the Door

The good thing about our propensity for day drinking is that it makes us many degrees more chipper and jolly for at least an hour or two.

Why, HELLO San Francisco! Lovely to See You This Fine Day!

The bad thing about our propensity for day drinking is that it also makes us VERY TIRED.

Ugh, Miles to Go Eating Our Way Through This Building Before We Sleep

Now, in our normal lives, this is no problem whatsoever -- we go out for a mid-day cocktail, stumble back home hours before sunset, and spend the rest of the day in various states of "rest."  When we are in San Francisco with an eighteen-page itinerary, however, this pattern is not so easy to maintain.

Too Tired to Find Out the Door... Which Is DIRECTLY Next to the "You Are Here" Star

Therefore, by the time we reach the Ferry Building to consume our next Best Thing I Ever Ate dish, we are 10:00pm tired at 2:00 in the afternoon.  We maneuver around the vendors without enthusiasm, until we find the Hog Island Oyster Company, where we are looking to consume Tyler Florence's favorite Kumamoto oysters.

Raise Your Hand If You Like Oysters. ::We Stand Like Statues::

The bad news that they're not serving those particular oysters.  FAIL, Hog Island!  Shame on you!

The good news is that we HATE oysters, so all is not lost.

Time to Bring On the Green Papaya... Though We're Not Sure How Much We Like That Either

Continuing our march down the Ferry Building, we pull up in front of Out the Door and without so much as consulting the posted menu, order the green papaya salad, as chosen by Chris Cosentino on the WITH FRUIT episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Chris Cosentino Has Not Been Batting 1,000 With Us on This Blog... Good Luck to You, Chris

We take our rather giant plastic container of salad, place ourselves at the two counter stools directly next to the cash register, and open the top to see what our poor, tired, full selves are up against.

And what we find is at least a full pound of green papaya.

Um, Is This Smattering to the Right Considered the Rest of the "Salad"?

Now, prior to this excursion, neither of us had ever tasted green papaya (or more aptly, if we had tasted it, we didn't know what it was).  In fact, we only recognize it at all in this concoction because there is just SO MUCH of it that it is the only possible ingredient that makes sense.

When in Doubt, Assume the Mound of String Is Green Papaya

On top of the mountain of papaya are assorted toppings, most of which we are incapable of identifying.  Ginger leans in for a closer look.

"Oh!  It's tofu!" she exclaims.

"Where's tofu?" Vodka, who let's just say does not consider tofu one of her five main food groups, asks.

Ginger points to some fried bits of white substance decorating the top of the salad.  

Oh, Well NOW This Salad Is Looking Up... NOT

We pour on a smidgen of the provided dressing, attempt to mix the salad up (no easy feat, what with the preponderance of the stupid papaya), and lift mouthfuls up with our chopsticks.

What Is With the Proportions Being WAY OFF in This Town?

"Tastes like soap," Ginger says nonchalantly, before, in proof that her mother must have fed her Ivory bars as a child, she dives back in for another bite.

One Bar of Soap a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

Vodka is decidedly less open toward the salad, grimacing as she places her chopsticks back in the container.  Not only is the green papaya itself overwhelming everything else, but it's not even something that tastes good.  We were expecting something sweeter -- FRUITIER, if you will -- and this is just, well, reminiscent of something you'd find in your shower.

If We Put the Lid Back on This Thing, Can We Return It?

After a few more bites, Ginger pipes up with, "I only like the toppings."  She carefully attempts to pick out a shaving of carrot, and then clumsily tries to use her chopsticks to chase down the peanut grounds which are uncontaminated by the papaya.

Might You Have Anything On Your Menu That Doesn't Taste Like a Used Washcloth?

"I don't even like them," Vodka says, spitting out a piece of fried tofu, as if to hammer home her point.  To Vodka, everything in this salad tastes like one of two things: nothing, or horrible.  Ginger is slightly less hostile, which is the only reason we have deigned to give it 2 stars instead of 1.  But Vodka pretty much correctly sums up our experience at Out the Door with the following phrase: "There's not a hot chance in hell I'd go near this again."

So In Sum, We Ate About 1/50 of Our Papaya Serving

As we pack up the three-quarters remainder of our salad, including an almost full container of dressing (which, to be fair, could be good on other things.  But NOT on this green papaya junk), a mother approaches the cash register with her multitude of children and starts ordering items willy-nilly.  As we stand to leave, she points at our salad and asks what it is, the subtext being that she's about to order it for herself.

RUN, Lady! Save Yourself!

"It's not good," Vodka says without actually providing an answer.  And if nothing else, at least we are saving San Francisco citizens from the horrors of this faulty salad, one nasty green papaya at a time.

Out the Door's Green Papaya Salad: 2 stars

Off the Map: Please Stop Force-Feeding Us Dumplings

Baked BBQ Pork Buns -- Yank Sing, San Francisco, CA
Yank Sing

Well, it's finally happened: we have walked out of a Best Thing I Ever Ate location without ingesting a single bite of food.  This is a first (at least, we think it is a first.  All of this eating is making us fat and senile).  But does this development mean that we skipped over a potential dish, thus saving ourselves some calories and even more sanity?  Of course not.

A Calorie Saved Is Merely a Calorie to Eat Later

We are at Yank Sing to attempt to consume Chris Cosentino's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate BAR-B-QUE dish, the baked BBQ pork buns.  Now, the last time Vodka was in San Francisco, before this blog was in existence, she came to Yank Sing for this very thing, so she warns Ginger on the way in, "They are going to try to throw food on our table the minute we sit down.  Say 'no' to EVERYTHING."

Well, Except Maybe the Soy Sauce. We'll Keep the Soy Sauce

It is in this mindset that we enter Yank Sing and are led to a table.  Before we have so much as had a chance to place both cheeks on the chair, a waitress comes along brandishing dumplings and attempting to place them in the middle of our table.

"No!" we call out simultaneously.

"No dumpling?"

"No, just BBQ pork buns please," we answer.

"Not ready til later," the woman tells us, so we collapse in our chairs, lift the teapot, and wait.

Pouring of the Tea Will Commence in 3... 2... Arghh!

"DUMPLINGS?" another waitress appears out of nowhere, with yet another wooden basket that is dangerously close to hitting the surface of our table.

"No!  Baked BBQ pork buns.  Nothing else," we say.

"We sold out," the woman tells us.  "Dumplings?"

"You're sold out?" we clarify.  "We were just told they were cooking."

"Sold out," the woman says again.  "Dump -- ?"

Does This Look Like a Dumpling to You, Yank Sing? THIS Is What We Want

"Come on," Vodka shoos Ginger out of her chair, and we just about sprint toward the front door, away from the giant piles of dumpling containers.  "There's another location."

Apparently, San Francisco Residents Like to Jam Dumplings Down Their Throats Twice in a Five-Block Radius

Don't Make Eye Contact at Location #2 Until They Hand Over the Pork Buns

In Yank Sing's defense, we are not exactly going about this "dim sum" thing correctly, being that most people do not venture to an Asian food smorgasbord merely to consume one dish, but no matter -- there is no excuse for their pushiness concerning their dumplings.  Nobody wants your dumplings, Yank Sing!

Okay, MOST People Probably Do. But We Don't!

In order to save ourselves from yet another onslaught of women clutching dumpling baskets, when we see that the second Yank Sing location has a to-go place right next door, we place our order for two baked BBQ pork buns, and we take them into the outer lobby of what appears to be an office building to eat in peace.

You Have Forced Us to Eat Like Hobos. Are You Happy Now, Yank Sing?

When Vodka was last at Yank Sing, she did indeed have the pork buns, but the steamed version -- not baked (clearly, this is when she was less OCD about the exactness of Best Thing I Ever Ate dishes).  Those pork buns had featured warm shredded meat tucked within a doughy but almost tasteless outer coating, and while they had not been anything to write home about, they were pleasing enough.  

At Last, Our Love Has Come Along ("Love," In This Particular Case, Is Relative)

This baked variety, in contrast, is browned on the outside and topped by a sticky honey substance which makes the whole thing sweet.

Mrs. Lovett's Sticky Meat Pies

And in sum, they are about one-thousand times worse than the steamed buns, which weren't even that great to begin with.

If You're Going to Hand Us a Doughnut-Like Creation, At Least Fill It With Vanilla Cream

While Ginger is slightly less put off by these concoctions than Vodka, being that a) she likes sweet foods, and b) she's more well-versed in the art of typical dim sum dishes, and thus finds these buns to be an acquired taste, neither of us are even remotely won over by them. 

Because, Well, They're Gross

The main issue with these buns is the meat-to-dough ratio -- there is about three times as much breading as there is meat inside, which makes the whole thing like a under-filled jelly doughnut.  

How Many Bites Does It Take to Get to the Meat in a BBQ Pork Bun?

The meat itself, due to whatever barbeque sauce is smothered on top of it, is overly sweet and unnaturally sticky, which is only compounded by the sweet glaze on the bun.  The whole thing seems like a mismatch of flavors, not to mention the fact that it is messy and sticky, and if there is one thing we hate more than mediocre food, it is getting dirty while trying to eat it.  

Yank Sing Needs to Start Distributing Plastic Gloves with Their Dumplings

Overall, anytime we have had any such "bun" in the past, we find them more enjoyable when the dough component is shaped like a taco rather than this savory Boston Cream shenanigan.  But we're not sure there is much that could save this version from the full extent of our displeasure.

Of Note: the Container WON'T EVEN FIT Through the Trash Can. Kudos, San Francisco Garbage Gods

So maybe, just maybe, when it comes to Yank Sing, the dumplings really are the best choice after all.

Yank Sing's Baked BBQ Pork Buns: 2 stars